The Color of Regret
by MidnightxBluexBlack
Summary: "He had wanted to share this view with him. It was too much of an opportunity to waste. So breathtakingly stunning, just like… " There was so much left to say. Totsuka's thoughts as he lay dying after being shot by the Colorless King. Intended MikoTotsu if you squint. Oneshot. Drabble. Complete.


First time writing for K. I got the inspiration for this when I was trying (and failing) to fall asleep. I did my best, but to be honest, I don't think it translated as well from my mind as it could have when I wrote it. In any case, I hope you enjoy it all the same.

_**Disclaimer: I do not own K. Please support the official release. **_

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"_Hey, it's a nice night out. I came out here to take a few pictures of the nighttime view, but what are you doing out here? I'm Tatara Totsuka. What's your name?" _

_Bang_

…

For a moment, everything turned white as Tatara Totsuka's stomach burned with a searing pain. He could tell that the one who held the gun was still speaking, but for the first few seconds, he was completely unable to comprehend anything that the boy was saying.

"I am the Seventh King, the Colorless King," he heard the boy saying as the night air filled with mocking laughter. As things once again began to grow fuzzy, those were the words that he held on to. If nothing else, he had to tell the others who their enemy was.

After a few minutes had passed, Totsuka noticed that everything was quiet once again. The only thing that penetrated the serenity of the calm night air was his own labored breathing. He could hear a gargling sound in his throat, the taste of iron lingering on his tongue. A few painful coughs later found a trickle of blood dripping down his lips. He must have been bleeding internally.

He had no idea how long he lay there, caught in the haze of pain slowly numbed by blood loss and the cool air of the December night. His mind began to wander, once again taken in by the beauty of the city lights glimmering against the clear darkness of the night sky—the sight that had drawn him out in the first place. He had wanted to share this view with him. It was too much of an opportunity to waste. So breathtakingly stunning, just like…

The sound of pounding feet brought him back.

"…tsuka-san! Totsuka-san! Hey! What happened?" Yata's frantic voice called to him, and he could feel himself being moved into someone's lap. He found the warmth of their skin against the cold of his own to be soothing.

Totsuka peeled his eyes open, unsure of when they had fallen closed in the first place, finding just that small task to be exhausting. Still, he wasn't done. He found Yata's face, filled with concern, floating above his own. He had to tell him.

"The… Colorless… King…"

"King…?" Yata's eyes widened as he comprehended the wounded man's words, and a jolt of anger raced through him, his grip around the blonde tightening. "Totsuka-san! Was it another king that did this to you?"

Kusanagi's voice cut in, and for the first time, Totsuka realized that he was there, too. He was out of sight, but at least Yata wasn't there alone. "That's enough, Yata! Don't make him speak!"

"You'll be alright, Totsuka-san. We sent for a doctor. We'll have you fixed up in no time," Yata tried to reassure him, his soothing tone ruined by the quivering of his voice. Somewhere, Totsuka's mind registered that the boy was shaking, as he held him close, as though afraid he would slip through his fingers. They all knew it was already too late, but to Yata, their 'bond' and their 'pride' was everything. Losing a comrade would never be an option for him, no matter how hopeless.

Totsuka's lips sloped upward into that soft, familiar smile of his. Anything to wipe that painful look off of Yata's face. "Hey…" he murmured with a quiet chuckle, breathless, numb. Nothing hurt. Everything hurt. He labored for each breath as he almost sighed the last comforting words, fading quickly now. "Don't… sweat it… It'll all work out…"

He reached out a hand, gently stroking Yata's cheek in an attempt to comfort him, but his hand was so heavy. Too heavy. Strength exhausted, his arm fell limp at his side once again. His fingers, saturated with his own blood, left a streak of red on the boy's pale skin in their wake.

_Red…_

_Mikoto…_

"I'm sorry…"

_There was so much left to say._

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Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews and constructive criticism are quite welcome. Thanks!

MidnightxBluexBlack


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